Change Your Mind
by DuchessOfDementia
Summary: He shouldn't have felt anything for her, but he did. He was her home, now. And she was his. George/Luna, Set During DH. /Work in Progress/


**I'll start by saying this will be a multi-chapter story. I'm hoping to go a bit more in-depth into the characterizations, possible complications and plot layers of the George/Luna couple, which is...pretty much my current OTP. Ha. Anyways, as always, reviews and criticism are STORNGLY appreciated, and generally warrant a faster update (after all, who doesn't work harder when they're under scrutiny?). That all being said, please read and enjoy. **

x-x-x-x-x

Since her childhood, Luna had always associated the idea of being on a beach with words like 'comfort', 'warm', and 'fun'. When she thought of a beach, she thought of families crowding the shoreline, all dressed in their swimming suits, laughing and holding hands and splashing in the water while the crying gulls circled overhead. She thought of _happiness_.

It seemed _wrong_, then, that on this particular beach, on this particular day, it was cold, empty, and silent, save for the crash of the surf. The birds had left for the winter, and Luna knew they would not be back until May, nearly two months away. There were no families, no children, no laughter; Luna sat alone, among the tall grasses, staring vacantly into the water as she fingered the raw, red circle of flesh around her middle finger where her beetle ring used to be.

It had been a full day since Harry, Ron and Hermione had appeared in the cellar of Malfoy Manor and sprung herself, Dean, Ollivander, and Griphook free. She remembered the feeling in her chest-the rising, gasping feeling that threatened to choke her-and how she had sincerely thought for a moment that perhaps, finally, she had really gone mad. Perhaps, she'd thought, Bellatrix LeStrange's most recent delivery of the _Cruciatus_ curse had caused her to lose her last remnants of sanity. She was quite certain that, if she had been left to her own devices in that dark cellar all those months, without any company, she surely would have gone mad. Within the first week of his capture, Ollivander had completely retreated into himself, becoming nothing more than a catatonic shade of the once-lively old man who had handed Luna her first wand with a warm smile on his face; his company had hardly been a comfort. In fact, his hysterical sobbing only depressed her further.

Luna would never say that she was grateful for Dean's kidnap, which later resulted in his joining her in that dark (_darkdarkdark_) cellar; however, she would most certainly say she was grateful for his company. Before Dean's arrival, Luna had been almost entirely alone, her only human encounters being with the end of Bellatrix's wand and with a most skittish and guilty-looking Draco, who sometimes got stuck with bringing her and Ollivander their food when Wormtail was preoccupied. Before Dean, Luna had been much farther gone than she would ever admit to anyone (but honestly, why worry them?). Because in that inky cellar, without her father, without her earrings or her ring (both of which Bellatrix had thoroughly enjoyed yanking off her), wet and cold and beaten and terribly, _terribly_ lonely, Luna Lovegood had _cried_.

For the first time since her mother died, she had bowed her head and not bothered to stop her tears. She had made no noise, or sobbed; in fact, she had only cried for a minute or so. But Luna had for many years prided herself on her ability to contain herself, to pull herself together, to maintain hope and control. Crying was, for Luna, more than just an admission of depression. Crying was giving up.

Admittedly, Luna had been secretly apprehensive about Dean's presence in the cellar. They had never spoken at school, and as well as she understood it, he had been mates with many of the boys who liked to poke fun at her. For this reason, his kindness had come as a great surprise to her. Only a minute or so after he had been forced ungracefully into the cellar, Dean had registered his surroundings, his eyes dark and wide, and had gasped and called her name when he saw her.

_"Luna?"_ he'd said, breaking into a run with footsteps that echoed throughout the cellar. He'd kneeled beside her, looking all over her-inspecting her for injury. She remembered his hand, reaching forward to brush her tangled hair out of her face as he whispered, _"What've they done to you?"_

Dean had kept her sane for a full month before Harry's appearance. When Luna stepped back and thought about it, it was really quite surprising how well she knew Dean now. They'd had nothing to do in that cellar, really, apart from talking. After Bellatrix's visits, Luna would often become very quiet, even coming close to crying again-but then Dean would drag himself to her side, his own body surely still humming with pain, and he would sit her up and lean her against the cool, wet wall, and he would make her talk about her father, or her classes, or her hobbies. At the time, Luna had found it strange and even ludicrous for him to make her talk after being tortured, but now, Luna understood that he had been distracting her.

The times when Luna absolutely refused to speak, Dean would put his arm around her and pull her to his chest and tell her stories about Quidditch and his hometown and Seamus Finnigan, his best friend and roommate. Luna would often ask him to tell her about Neville, who had also been Dean's close friend and roommate. Luna had missed Neville dearly during her captivity, wishing she still had her D.A. Galleon so she could get a message to him and tell him she was alright. Neville had made a terrible scene when the Death Eaters took her from her compartment on the Hogwarts Express, and even though she knew it didn't make a lot of sense, she felt guilty for it. Neville had always been a kind and wonderful friend to her, ever since her fourth year, and she liked listening to Dean talk about all their misadventures in Gryffindor tower. Luna didn't understand why Dean seemed so occupied with comforting her-usually _she_ was the one to offer comfort-but she accepted it gratefully. His stories soothed her, and sometimes even made her laugh. Soon, Luna realised that she and Dean had become what could generally be categorised as..._friends_. And good ones at that.

But no matter how much better Dean made her feel about being held captive, she was still unbearably relieved (though, being Luna, she has a talent for hiding strong emotion) when Harry arrived, even if he was wandless. After all, he was Harry Potter. Call it stupidity, call it faith, but Luna Lovegood had, over the years, gotten the impression that Harry always won. She knew it was illogical, but she saw him as something like invulnerable; like he couldn't lose. It had all happened terribly fast-the door at the top of the cellar had opened, and Ollivander had given a little cry (expecting it to be Bellatrix, probably), and she and Dean had snapped their heads up and, instead of the deranged Bellatrix with her wild eyes and curling lip, there was Wormtail, forcing two boys into the cellar. A very disfigured Harry, and Ron.

And then there was screaming-Hermione-and Luna recognized all too well the spell with which Bellatrix was greeting her. And then there was that thing-the..._Deluminator_, was it?-and there was Dobby the house-elf, wrinkly and wide-eyed and newly Apparated, and the Death Eaters kept shoving Harry and Ron back and forth, asking questions, and then they took Wormtail's wand, and then Dobby had taken she, Dean and Ollivander by their wrists and with a snap of his fingers and that magical _crack_, they found themselves on a cold, briny beach.

Harry, Hermione, Ron and Griphook had joined them shortly, along with a dead Dobby-stabbed by Bellatrix LeStrange. Luna had not even known he'd been killed until she glanced outside the window and saw Harry among the distant grasses, digging a hole.

The Trio had not stayed long after that. Harry spoke briefly with Ollivander, and then Griphook, and the goblin ended up leaving with them, for whatever reason. Only a mere two hours after their arrival, they were leaving again. Hermione had spared a moment to talk to Luna-basic things, "how are you" and "will you be alright"-and gave her a tight hug before going off in search of Harry. Ron had given her a sad smile, and Harry had told her he was glad to see her alright. And then they were gone.

Fleur seemed to have made it her mission to nurse the weary, decrepit Ollivander back to health, checking in with him constantly and insisting he stay as long as he needed to. She had attempted to force Dean and Luna to submit to her care as well, but they both insisted they were fine (although Dean was certainly taking full advantage of the fact that he now had a clean bed to sleep in).

Luna's rest had been brief and fitful, and so she had awoken early to sit on the beach and watch the sun rise. It was past eight, now, and still she hadn't moved from her place in the tall, bending grass. The weather was hardly complimentary to her location, but she had come nonetheless. She needed to think.

Given the general silence that had surrounded her for nearly three hours, Luna heard someone coming long before they had reached her. Glancing wistfully over her shoulder, she saw Bill Weasley jogging towards her, his long red hair whipping about in the briny wind. When he finally reached her side, he was breathless.

"Hey, Luna? Someone's here."

x-x-x-x-x

George cursed noisily when his hip collided painfully with the kitchen counter. Biting his lip, he rubbed the damaged spot, knowing he'd find a bruise there tomorrow. Fred and Lee both smothered laughs as Fleur shot him a dirty look.

"_Language_," she hissed, her accent as thick as ever as she bounded up the stairs with a loaded tea tray. George had the decency to at least look sheepish.

"Fred, George! Lee!"

George looked up to see Dean Thomas sprinting into the room, as tall and dark as he remembered. Dean's handsome face was lit up in a bright smile as he looked between the three of them. "What're you doing here?"

"I think that question better applies to _you_," Fred answered with a grin. "Bill's our brother. We've at least got a remotely predictable reason for visiting, unlike yourself."

Dean chuckled, then winced. His hand reached up to touch the corner of his mouth, and George noticed a bit of dry blood on the edge of his bottom lip. He straightened up.

"I was at Malfoy Manor the past month," Dean said, smiling again, but more tightly. "Harry, Hermione and Ron came-I dunno why, they didn't stay long enough to explain-and sprung me from the cellar. Griphook, Ollivander and Luna, too, but Griphook's gone with them. Dunno the reason for that, either."

"Well we know why _you_ were on You-Know-Who's blacklist," Lee said bluntly, referring to Dean's blood status, which had been being questioned at the Ministry. "But what'd they want with that old codger Ollivander and Loony Lovegood?"

"_Luna_," Dean corrected flatly, and George thought he sensed a bit of anger there. Lee raised his eyebrows, but Dean continued before he could say anything. "Apparently You-Know-Who was trying to glean information from Ollivander about a wand or something. As for Luna, they were keeping her as leverage, so her Dad would cooperate."

"That's right," Fred said suddenly, nodding as realisation dawned in his face. "The Quibbler's been awfully pro-Potter for a while, now. Makes sense that You-Know-Who isn't chuffed about it."

"Why Luna, though?" George piped up suddenly, feeling strangely panicked as he imagined the tiny, serene Loony Lovegood he'd known in the D.A. locked up in Malfoy Manor and at the mercy of a bunch of Death Eaters. "Why not just take her Dad?"

"You-Know-Who thought he could use more good press, I imagine. They wanted him to print things more to their tastes," Dean said sombrely, a dark look coming to his face. "And with Luna's mum gone, she was the only thing that'd get him to do what they wanted. Poor bloke. Never met him, but he seems alright from what Luna's told me. And it killed her to be locked up like that, knowing she was worrying him." Dean finished with a fitful shake of his head, his brow creased in distress. George had never seen Dean so torn up-he shifted nervously as he considered the idea that Dean had grown more than just a bit attached to Loony Lovegood.

"Where _is_ she, anyway? Not still sleeping?" George asked, glancing around the tiny, wooden room, bare besides the four of them.

Fleur suddenly appeared from behind the corner, bearing a now-empty tea tray. "She is out on ze beach. Bill 'as gone to get 'er," she explained, dancing into the kitchen and dropping the tea tray on the counter, close to where George had banged his hip.

As if on cue, Bill came through the back door, leading Luna in by the hand. George found it a bit odd that Bill would touch Luna like that; like she was a lost child or something.

Bill released her hand once they were both inside, and Luna looked between the three newcomers, her face blank. A bruise painted her left eye, and George felt a strange rush of protective frustration; he wanted to do something, to help her, to at least curse the teeth off whoever had done it to her; but he knew he couldn't. The feeling confused him terribly. She looked so different from the wedding-her hair was matted and tangled, drawn back in a bun at the nape of her neck, and her clothes were filthy and spotted with the occasional bloodstain. Beach sand clung to her sleeves. Her face was as soft and young as he remembered, but there was something uncomfortably emotionless about it, now.

"Hello," she said softly, flashing a tight smile that did not reach her eyes.

"Hey, Luna," Lee said kindly. Fred offered a friendly "Hi" and George just raised his hand in nervous greeting.

"Are you feeling alright?" Billy asked her gently, touching her shoulder. Luna turned her head in his direction, but her eyes were on the floor. George swallowed thickly when he noticed a bright red slash on her cheek. She was quiet for a moment, seeming to consider her answer carefully.

"I'm fine," she said finally, "just a bit tired."

"You 'ardly slept," Fleur said, putting her hands on her hips. "Bill, look at 'er eyes. You need sleep, _mon cher,_" she said, flitting over and putting her hand on Luna's cheek.

"Fleur, she doesn't need to sleep if she doesn't want to," Bill said, sounding tired. George would have made a joke about him being woman-whipped, but refrained, given the circumstances.

"No, I'd actually love to try for some more sleep," Luna said gently, smiling wearily between the two of them. Fleur smiled warmly and backed away from her as Luna made her way out of the room and up the stairs, making hardly any noise as she did. The whole room kept silent as she left, and George was fairly certain he knew the reason. If everyone else felt as indignant about Luna's apparent suffering as he did, then as soon as they knew she was out of earshot, they were all going to badger Dean for information about her treatment. Predictably, the moment they heard a door shut upstairs, all eyes were on the dark lad in the corner.

"Blimey, what _happened_ to her?" Lee asked Dean in a hushed whisper, his eyes wide.

Dean shook his head again, a disgusted grimace appearing on his face, contorting his handsome features. "She was there for months before I got there. Bellatrix and Fenrir Greyback had already taken a particular _liking_ to her."

Bill scowled furiously at the mention of the werewolf, and Fleur touched his cheek consolingly.

George and Fred exchanged looks, sensing one another's rising discomfort. George spoke first.

"But, Fenrir-he didn't, like...I mean-?"

Dean shook his head. "No, no one did anything like _that_ to her, luckily. Bellatrix said they had to keep her in one piece or her Dad wouldn't cooperate. Made sense."

"Bastards," Fred and George muttered in unison.

"Didn't stop them from practising their wand arms on us though," Dean said, wincing as he rubbed a spot on his shoulder. "Really, the pain from the Cruciatus fades straightaway-it's the marks and bruises you get from bouncing around on the floor that have the staying power. I sprained my wrist the first time they used it on me."

"_C'est Terrible! _You did not tell me!" Fleur said, motherly concern coming into her eyes.

"I'm fine, now," Dean said, dismissing her worry with a wave of his hand. "I snapped it back into place and it healed. Luna, though..."

Dean's voice trailed off and his eyes looked skyward as he chewed his lip. Suddenly everyone in the kitchen was looking up, too, waiting for a sign that Luna may still be awake.

A few moments later, when no sound came from above, Dean seemed to think it was safe to speak. "She's different. I was only there for a month, but...she's been there since before Christmas. I dunno what they did to her before I got there."

"Perhaps Ollivander can say?" Bill suggested, looking hopefully at Fleur.

She shook her silver head. "No, 'e is too weak. 'E can barely move as it is, let alone speak. 'Arry tried to talk too 'im when 'e was here, too, and Ollivander 'as not spoken since."

"She's right," Dean said, shaking his head as well. "Ollivander was mad as all hell when we were at Malfoy Manor. I wouldn't hold my breath for him to submit any helpful information."

George frowned. In spite of his sudden worry for Luna (which was steadily increasing the more the conversation dragged on), another question was at the forefront of his mind.

"Bill, why'd you owl us to come here?"

Fred, Lee and Dean all looked up, suddenly curious. Bill and Fleur exchanged hesitant looks before turning to them. Bill sighed, rubbing his neck.

"Well...Harry left Dean, Luna and Ollivander with us when they left for Merlin-knows-where. I wouldn't bet on Ollivander being able enough to travel anytime soon, but Dean and Luna..."

George had an idea where Bill's thought was headed, but before he could finish, Dean interjected.

"We can't _go_ with them," Dean said, sounding as if he found the idea utterly ludicrous. "Bill, you _know_ we can't. Every Snatcher in Britain will be looking for us now that we've escaped, and especially since Harry was the one who sprung us free. They'll think we know something-and Luna's Dad will stop cooperating the minute he finds out. If we go with them, they'll be in danger."

"Not like we already aren't, mate," Fred said cheerfully, clapping Dean on the back. "We've been broadcasting _Potterwatch_ for months now, you know that. We've already had a few run-ins with Snatchers, actually. Terribly dull, they are. One case of Peruvian Instant-Darkness Powder and we were scott-free."

Dean still looked sceptical. "You know I wouldn't mind tagging along, but...Luna won't like it," he warned them. "She's selfless, she is. A bit like Harry that way. She hates people sticking their necks out for her-even got mad whenever I tried to defend her form Bellatrix back at the Manor."

"You and Luna are both fugitives, now," Bill said gravely. "You can't go home, or back to school; the Snatchers would have you in a second. And I don't think you want her running around Britain on her own, do you?"

"She wouldn't be-I'd go with her," Dean said hotly. Fleur cocked an eyebrow at his passion, as if he had just confirmed a suspicion of hers.

"Too dangerous. Besides, is Luna even of age yet?" Bill asked.

Dean hesitated, then looked at the floor, as if ashamed. "I dunno. She never told me her birthday."

"She'd be a sixth year, so she could be," Fred supplied helpfully.

"Well, either way, you two need a place to go. Fred, George, you're all on the run anyway, aren't you?"

Lee looked wary, but Fred and George both sought each other's eyes and exchanged a nod.

"That we are," George confirmed.

"I know it's a bit to ask, especially with all the trouble you're already in, but"-

"Say no more, big brother," Fred said, putting a hand up to silence Bill. "We'd be happy to have them along. Could always use a few more wands on our side, anyway. When would you want us to take them, anyway?"

"When Luna is awake, of course," Fleur huffed, as if the answer were obvious. "She 'as been awake since before dawn, sitting on ze beach and staring at ze water. _C'est étrange,_ don't you think? But she needs 'er rest. Did you see 'er _eyes_?"

George thought of her bruise again, and of the lifelessness in her eyes, and was stricken by the sudden desire to go and check on her, even if she had only left the kitchen five minutes prior. There was something terribly alien about her expression before-she hadn't looked like Luna Lovegood at all. He thought of how everyone was babying her-Bill, Fleur, and Dean especially-and wondered what exactly had happened to her while she was a prisoner. She had never looked so..._small_ before.

"I think it's best if you go by tonight," Bill said with a firm nod. "Snatchers are probably preoccupied searching Dean and Luna's homes for now, but it won't be long before they move on."

"So rest," Fleur urged, shooing them away with her hands. "Especially you!" she called, pointing almost accusingly at Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes and clambered noisily up the rickety stairs. Lee excused himself to the loo as Fred and George, after another glare from Fleur, began to ascend the stairs as well.

"Oi, George," Fred whispered, taking his elbow and pulling him aside when they reached the top of the stairs. From where they stood, they could see into the bedroom at the end of the hall, where Dean was sitting beside a sleeping Luna and stroking her head.

"What?" George asked, a bit more impatient than he meant to be. Something about the scene in the bedroom annoyed him. He found himself wishing Dean would stop touching her.

Fred's expression was knowing. "If she's coming along, lay off, alright?"

George frowned. "What are you playing at, Fred?" he asked. "Why would I piss around with her? Did you _see_ her?"

"Oh, I know _you_ saw her," Fred answered crossly, his grip tightening a little. "Don't think I didn't notice the way you looked at her, Georgie. I'm just telling you, for your sake-for her sake, too. Hell, for _all_ our sakes. This isn't the time to be thinking with your trousers."

Fred released him and made his way into the adjacent bedroom before George could come up with a smart answer. He shot another look at the back of Luna's head before disappearing into the room with Fred, feeling more confused than he had in weeks.

x-x-x-x-x

**Hell of an introduction, I think. Well, you guys are worth it. I realise there isn't a whole lot of actual romance in this chapter, but this is just a prologue of sorts, really. Besides, I like to use first chapters to set things in motion. I always wondered why very few people in the fanfiction community bother to explore Dean and Luna's relationship, by the way. I mean, they were trapped in a dungeon together for over a month. If I had been Luna, I'd have jumped his bones the minute the door closed, Ollivander and Griphook be damned. Of course, I have a crush on Alfred Enoch, so that is neither here nor there. The point is-review, alert, favourite-do what ya gotta do. Your feedback is so, **_**so**_** appreciated :)**


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